


Nocturne in B major

by pocketsfullofmice



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Finger Fucking, Foot Fetish, M/M, dom!hannibal, hannibal has a vague foot fetish?, will in a dress, will makes a pretty girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketsfullofmice/pseuds/pocketsfullofmice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal presents Will with a dress, and it would be rude to turn down a present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturne in B major

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twerkinghannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twerkinghannibal/gifts).



> A very quick Christmas fic for [Tiffany](http://twerkinghannibal.tumblr.com/). The lesson here is don't put ideas in my head.
> 
> And by very quick I mean written in one sitting and with only a quick proofread, so this isn't as put together as my typical work. Feel free to shout things at me [here](http://hughdancytwinkfanclub.tumblr.com/ask).

Will didn't say anything as Hannibal slid the zip up his back slowly. It wouldn't change anything if he complained. Hannibal got what he wanted, and if he wanted Will to wear the dress, he'd get it. Will's job was to stand there, shivering as he felt Hannibal's knuckles brush along the bare skin on his back as the metallic teeth clicked closed.

It wasn't only the dress; Hannibal had very carefully buffed Will's worn nails, clipped them, painted them a pale peach. It was around then that he had started to get hard, his arousal burning low in his belly from all the attention being bestowed upon him.

'Red,' Hannibal had said as he dipped the brush in the polish, 'would cheapen the dress.'

The same, apparently, couldn't be said for the lipstick Hannibal applied to Will's mouth. The tube said Cherry Snow, and Hannibal dipped a paintbrush into the stick before painting it over Will's lips. It tasted waxy, and he had to stop himself from licking at it, picking at his lips. His hair had been next; Hannibal had curled it softly, gently running his fingers through it, twisting Will's short hair into miniature barrel rolls. Will personally thought it looked ridiculous (though strangely he didn't really mind the look of the lipstick) but he kept his mouth shut. After that was his chronically stubbled cheeks. Hannibal had taken his time, shaving him with a straight razor, tipping his head back and running the blade over his Adam's apple and jaw line.

The dress was really quite easy after all of that. It had a deep purple and sunflower yellow print. The cotton was heavy and thick, but the lining was far softer and silky. It rubbed luxuriously against his skin, against his naked cock. It bulged a little where a bust would normally be; although Hannibal had bought it for Will, he hadn't had it properly fitted yet. It nipped in nicely at the waist, though, and the skirt floated out around him as he twirled (as per Hannibal's request), and came settling back down against his thighs.

Without a word, Hannibal knelt in front of him. He had also procured a pair of strappy sandals with a slight heel. Will swallowed hard as Hannibal rested his hand on his calf and raised his foot. He slid the shoe on carefully, set Will's foot back on the carpet and did up the shoe. He repeated the process with the other shoe, sliding it on and doing up the strap. His hand slid up Will's leg to the back of his knee, where it lingered for a beat.

He stood and took a step back. Will quivered, the slightest movement causing the silk lining to flutter against his erection. Sucking in a breath, Will tipped his head back and let his hips rock slightly. Hannibal's eyes were on him, his gaze unwavering. 

'Stay.'

Will swallowed hard but nodded. Staying still was easy. The heels might have been relatively short- only a couple of inches- but Will's preference of shoe was generally steel-capped boots. The occasional pair of runners were at a stretch. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannibal undressing. Although Will had been a little taken aback by how thorough he was about it initially, it made sense the more he lingered on it. He laid his clothes out neatly, hanging up his jacket and ties, separating what could be washed traditionally and what had to be dry-cleaned. He placed his shoes together so they didn't get lost or scuffed. Everything else was tossed into the wash basket if they were at his house (which they were right then), or folded and laid aside when they were at Will's. Either way, it was an excruciatingly long time to be left standing, his cock aching, his toes starting to pinch. The front of the skirt of the dress had become slightly damp with pre-cum, his hips rocking slowly.

Hannibal didn't speak until he was naked. He walked over to Will, snatching the bottle of lube off the corner of the bed as he did. He was hard, too, but he seemed nonplussed by it, a trait Will envied and loathed all in one.

'Bend over.'

Will wasn't quite sure what he did. Maybe he had rolled his eyes, maybe he had grimaced. He was rarely touched when Hannibal had him bend over the bed, his ass raised to the air like a dog in heat. He'd have to rut against the bed to get any kind of attention on his cock, as Hannibal usually pinned his arms behind his back, leaving him keening and desperate.

Regardless, whatever it was that he did, Hannibal didn't appreciate it. His hand struck Will's left cheek, leaving his head ringing and tears springing into his eyes. His mouth gaped, and though his hand came up instinctively to touch his cheekbone, he was a second too late. Hannibal's hand was around his throat, just under his chin. Hissing for air, Will's eyes bulged as he was tossed face-first onto the bed.

Hannibal shoved the skirt of the dress up. Will heard the click over the cap from the bottle of lube as he gulped down air, his mind reeling. The fingers that pushed inside of him were cold, enough to make him gasp, but not cold enough to make him kick out. Hannibal was a lot of things, but a considerate lover wasn't exactly one of them. It was lucky, Will sometimes thought, that he actually preferred sex to be rough. It cut through the fog of his mind, the numbness of his limbs, and made him focus on the here and now.

'You're lucky,' Hannibal snarled, 'that I want fuck you more than I want to kill you.'

Will didn't linger too long on the words. Hannibal's fingers were deep inside of him, stretching him. His hands were miraculously free for once, but he didn't think to touch himself. His hands dug into the cream-and-gold embroidered quilt, smelling the chemicals of the nail polish, the hair spray. At the last second he remembered the lipstick and turned his face away to avoid leaving a stain.

'Good boy,' Hannibal purred, his other hand coming up to stroke surprisingly gently through Will's hair. 'Good boy.'

' _Fuck_ \- '

He jerked slightly as Hannibal added another finger. He never kept count; it was always somewhere between _too many_ and _not enough_.

'Hmm?'

Will shoved his fist against his lipstick-stained mouth. He pressed a knee against the bed, dragging the heel of the shoe against his calf, scratching his skin. He managed to splutter out a single word as Hannibal pressed his thumb against the taut skin between his ass and balls, feeling the nail dig in just a little too hard.

' _Please_.'

Hannibal laughed low. His fingers were gone immediately, leaving Will feeling empty. He didn't get up; he waited as Hannibal cleaned his hand (inevitably on Will's clothes; he used it as an excuse to buy him something new and more to his expensive taste). It was only when Hannibal was laying stretched out on the bed and his bare foot pressed against Will's forehead did he dare open his eyes. Cherry-Snow-red lipstick was streaked over the back of his hand. He pictured it along his freshly shaved cheek, leaving a line pointing to his eye, probably crossing over the welt on his cheek.

'Up. All fours.'

Swallowing hard, Will waited as Hannibal's foot slid down the side of his face, his neck, to his shoulder and over his back. Shakingly, he crawled forward, his knee catching only once as he tried to establish his balance on the bed. He caught his knee on his skirt, stumbled, but righted himself as he settled over Hannibal.

Hannibal's hands slid up Will's thighs, under the skirt and to his hips. His feet rested on the bed; Will felt his knees pressing into his ass, subtly guiding him where he wanted him. Will didn't mind as he tended to appreciate any help he could get when it came to this. His chest heaved hard as Hannibal guided him down onto his already slick cock, stretching him more than his fingers had. It was the same every time; Will got a thrill out of it, out of the sharp pain at first that dulled quickly into something red-hot and wonderful.

'Good boy,' Hannibal whispered.

Will shut his eyes, his head falling forward. He never moved- it wasn't his place, his right to do so, at least not until Hannibal told him to. 

He felt the man's fingers against his lips. Opening his mouth, Hannibal shoved his fingers in hard, nearly gagging him with the pressure. Will coughed (or attempted to) just once; it was enough of a warning for Hannibal to pull his fingers back the smallest fraction. His hand gripped Will's hard, enough to leave a pretty line of bruises come morning. Hannibal's thighs would be the same, with two sharp bruises where the heels of the sandals were pressing in.

'I want you to fuck yourself on my cock, Will. Think you can do that? Ah, shh- I know you can.'

Will made a faintly frustrated sound, given the fingers still in his mouth, but he nodded. His hands rested on Hannibal's chest. Bracing himself, he started to rock, grunting as Hannibal's knuckles pushed against his lips. Despite his frustration, Will loved this, being pinned from two ends, being stretched and used and making a fool of himself, humiliating himself as he worked himself on Hannibal's cock, sucking his fingers, his tongue twisting around them. His curls fell against his eyes, clinging a little to his sweaty skin.

He didn't last long. He couldn't. He'd been waiting and dripping and arching for what had felt likes hours, and he was in no state to put on some kind of display. Hannibal hadn't even touched him, and yet he still came, biting down on Hannibal's fingers as he spilt over onto the silk lining of the dress. He rode the orgasm out, still too aroused to be shame-faced and blushing. 

Hannibal snatched his hand free, slammed it on Will's other hip and pushed him down. In some ways this was Will's favourite part, when he was coherent enough to remember. Hannibal used him like a doll, ruthlessly and with little care. Will merely slumped and pressed his waxy lips to Hannibal's neck, letting the man's hands spread his ass to use him better, feeling his fingers press against his hole as his cock slid inside of him, taunting him with the idea of more, something that hadn't been done (yet). 

When Hannibal came, it was with a bite to Will's shoulder, joining an array of white scars and healing wounds that hid under shirts and collars and, at this moment, the dress. 

He never pushed him off, strangely. Will was permitted to linger, to catch his breath, to catch his racing mind. When Hannibal finally started to move, he disentangled them and sat beside Will, who immediately slumped on his belly. Hannibal undid the dress slowly, with as much care as he had taken to put it on. Will managed to squirm from it, and watched as Hannibal stood. He crossed over to the wardrobe, took out a hanger, and hooked it up beside the rest of his laundry that was to be sent off to dry-cleaning.

Another time, then.


End file.
